


We Shall Meet Again Across The Sea

by Janet Elizabeth (jeswainston)



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-09
Updated: 2004-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeswainston/pseuds/Janet%20Elizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>We Shall Meet Again Across The Sea<br/>by Janet Elizabeth</p>
    </blockquote>





	We Shall Meet Again Across The Sea

**Author's Note:**

> We Shall Meet Again Across The Sea  
> by Janet Elizabeth

We Shall Meet Again Across The Sea  
by Janet Elizabeth

The small figure stood on the beach and skipped pebbles across the gold tinged waters. He smiled to himself as he remembered another who had often amused him by doing such a thing. His smile held a hint of sorrow as the remembered time was long ago and far away, when everyone had been younger and much more innocent.

A sigh escaped from soft, rosebud lips and the light breeze ruffled the dark curls that tumbled from brow to shoulders. The sound of booted feet shushing across the soft sand made the small figure cock his head but he didn't turn. He knew, as he had since his arrival on this shore, whose tread that was. He waited for the warm, velvety voice to filter through the sounds of the gulls and the sweet shush-shush of the waves.

"He will come. Never fear." Said the tall one, who had once been a person of great importance and still was, though you would never know it from his demeanor. He had kept the form he had held for all those many years and yet his eyes now always wore the spirit of the mighty one who he truly was.

The smaller figure turned his head slightly, just so the glimmer of one impossibly blue eye could be seen between the tendrils of hair that continued to flutter in the quickening winds.

"I know. But I am impatient. I have been awaiting him a long time. The others arrived before he did and yet he left before they. Their release from the Halls came about quicker than 'He' seems to be coming." Came the soft accented tones of the smaller. He turned back to continue his watch on the sea as he continued. "I see his face on that final day and have in all the time I have been here. He tried to smile and I was able, to show him that not all partings are evil, to show him that true friends are never apart for long."

The small figure of Frodo Baggins turned then, looking the same as he ever did, the same as he had on the day he had sailed from the Grey Havens. He stood gazing at the tall figure of his old friend Gandalf, sometimes known as Mithrandir and by other more majestic names here in the Undying Land.

"What could be taking so long? Nothing -" He paused then and fear came in his eyes, fear that had not been there in many long days, though he knew not how many. "Nothing could have happened, could it Gandalf?"

The tall, white-haired Istari gazed kindly at his now forever young friend and then walked towards him, arms outstretched to embrace the almost fragile looking hobbit. Frodo laid his head on the strong shoulder and let himself be embraced, though the only arms he longed to feel were still not there to satisfy his need.

"He will come. As promised. Time is different there than here and the ships do not always come the most direct way. As you well know, Frodo." Said Gandalf, his voice wearing the smooth soothing tones of old.

Frodo sighed again and then raised his head as he heard voices in the distance. He pulled away from the Istari and squinted towards the gentle rise of the hill behind them. In moments, several figures came over the rise and while at least two tumbled like the irrepressible young hobbits he remembered from old, two more strode with the measured, long-legged strides of men used to power, another nimble and light on his feet and the last, but not the least, lumbering with the walk of one used to spending time under mountains. Tears filled his eyes as he watched the other seven members of his long ago formed fellowship come to join him in his vigil on the beach.

He studied them briefly, wondering at what magic could be at work to restore his human, hobbit and dwarvish friends to almost their original appearance after they had lived long and fruitful lives, then died and gone to the Halls of Mandos. But he wondered not long, glad in his heart that they were there, almost all. He waited with Gandalf for his friends to join and greet them.

Merry and Pippin were first, and he could only think of them by their pre-majority names and not the noble and more mature Meriadoc and Peregrin of their later years. To him they would always be the young, irrepressible scamps who had not known what they were getting themselves into and yet had become great and strong and legends amongst their people and all the peoples of Middle-Earth. Here, newly released from the Halls, they were young again, or almost. There were still traces of the adults they had later become, as not all troubles can be erased nor should be. They would carry the war of the ring within themselves forever, as would Frodo.

As they reached him, he could not help but grin at them, wishing he could hear the two of them sing and see them dance one of their silly dances once again. Perhaps they would again, now that they were back amongst the living. The three hugged, jostling and teasing each other as of old. It made Frodo glad in his heart to have his young cousins with him once more. A deep voice interrupted their reunion.

"Have you no greeting for the rest of us or must we pry your kinsmen from you first?"

Frodo laughed, a sound that had not come from his lips in many long days and rushed towards the man whom he had once known as Strider, Ranger of the North and who had later become the last king of a great people. Aragorn knelt and hugged his young friend, both of them laughing at the joy of renewed friendship. The hobbit was torn gently from the Numenorean's arms by the strong hands of one not much taller than he. Gimli grinned at him and slapped him on the back heartily.

"Good to see you my hobbit friend. Good indeed. As good as the sight of a lode of mithril under a solid mountain of stone."

Frodo laughed again and hugged the dwarf. A soft clearing of the throat made him turn and smile warmly at the tall, fair elf standing before him.

"I cry your pardon Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. I neglect you not and would beg you to forgive my inept greeting." Said Frodo, a smile playing over his lips.

"What, have you forgotten your elvish?" Said the slender elf, laughing.

Frodo merely laughed again and embraced his eternal friend.

A silence settled over the group as the eighth member of the fellowship stood a little away, warily watching the reunion of friends. Frodo pulled away from Legolas then and walked slowly towards Boromir, son of Denethor. As he reached the tall man, the former son of the Steward of Gondor fell to his knees, tears in his eyes and head bowed.

"Our last meeting was none too friendly, though in the time I had left to me I regretted all that occurred and have waited long years amongst the dead to seek your forgiveness." Came the broken voice of the once proud man.

Frodo shivered as he stood before the cowed soldier. His minds' eye replayed the last time he and Boromir had been together. He remembered the fear and the loathing and how those last few moments had set in motion events that had sped the war to it's only conclusion. He remembered the tales that Merry and Pippin had told him of Boromir's last stand in their defence, but he still could not bring himself to do more than stand and gaze at the shamed man. A soft pattering of footsteps came from behind him and then Pippin slipped an arm around his shoulder.

"He has paid Frodo." Came his youngest cousin's soft voice.

Merry was next, placing a hand on the shivering hobbit's head.

"He has been forgiven and released. All he needs is your renewed friendship." Merry said, his eyes filled with earnest emotion.

Frodo glanced at his kinsmen and then at the other members of his fellowship. Each one's face wore the same look of hope and love. They had forgiven Boromir and were only waiting on Frodo's decision. Frodo then turned back to the broken man before him and reaching out, placing a small hand under the strong chin, he raised his head to gaze into the grey, pain filled eyes.

"I know what the ring did to me and know how it could have made you do and say the things you did. Your actions only helped me do what needed to be done. There is no forgiveness needed from myself or any other. You are part of our fellowship and shall remain so, welcomed and cherished." Frodo said, leaning forward and kissing Boromir on the forehead.

The big man wept then, laying his head on the small shoulder. All three hobbits embraced him and after a few moments, the rest of the fellowship came forward and helped him to his feet, all laughing and slapping him on the back.

Suddenly, Legolas, whose face was turned towards the sea, stepped away from the group and gazed out over the dark blue waves.

"A ship comes." He said simply.

Frodo inhaled sharply and then held his breathe, turning slowly to face the sea which he had sailed over so long and not long ago. He could see nothing but he didn't doubt his friend's eyesight. So he waited, as they all did, for the mast of the ship to be seen.

In moments that passed like a rushing river, all at once and not at all, the pennants on the mast of a white ship could be seen. Frodo reached for a hand and found Gandalf's. The larger hand engulfed his and gripped firmly, giving the hobbit strength to wait until the ship docked. In the span of a few breathes, impossible that the ship could sail so quickly, the distance to the shore became as nothing and the last elvish sailors out of Middle-Earth were jumping down onto the sand with ropes. Strange as it seemed to see such a large ship come to shore that way without a dock, Frodo was blind to it all. His gaze never strayed from the deck where the gangplank would be thrust down. He never once looked away as he waited.

And then his wait was over. A familiar crop of light brown curls appeared over the rail of the ship and then the face that went with it. Tears began to fall from his eyes like gentle rain as the figure, the one person in all the world he had awaited, came down from the last white ship from Middle-Earth and onto the sand.

"Sam." He breathed the name out like a caress. He wiped at his eyes, trying to clear the shimmer of tears so that he could not miss a moment of his Sam's arrival. Still, the small figure descending from the ship did not turn to look until his feet were firmly planted on the sands of the Undying Land.

For a moment or two neither hobbit moved and then both were running over the sand, their furry feet flying, arms outstretched, crying and laughing and calling each other's names. Then they were tangled in a flurry of arms, hugging tight enough to stop breath, hearts beating once again in unison.

They stayed that way for as long as they thought was proper, neither wanting to pull back first and both filled with unending joy to be together again. The sound of feet all around them made them both pull back at once to gaze at the other's face. To Frodo, Sam looked the same as he did the day that Frodo had sailed from the Havens. To Sam, Frodo looked as he did the day they left Hobbiton on their last adventure. Shyly, Sam took Frodo's hand, the one with the missing finger and petted it. He smiled when he found it whole and Frodo smiled back at him. Frodo looked at his friend and began to weep again.

"I'm sorry Sam. Rose won't be here. I'm so sorry."

Sam bowed his head a moment and when he looked back up again, there were no tears, only joy in his eyes.

"S'alright Mister Frodo. She and I were happy many years, but I were always torn in two and she knew it best of all. I'll miss her, but now I'm home." He finished quietly.

The two friends embraced again and then let themselves be embraced by the rest of their companions. The fellowship was whole again and despite many others whose lives were a part of theirs, the nine were the strongest bonds of all.

As seven of the nine walked back up the beach and over the crest of the hill, two hobbits lingered a little on the shores of the Undying Land looking back over the sea to the place that was once their home and then with a sigh of satisfaction, took each other's hand and began to follow their fellows. Their piping voices drifted across the land as they walked.

"Now Sam," said the dark-haired one seriously. "There will be no more of this 'Mister Frodo' business. Here, and always, am I just Frodo."

"But Mister-" began the light curled hobbit.

"No buts Samwise Gamgee, or I'll make you peel all the potatoes." Said Frodo with a laugh.

"They have taters here M - Frodo?" Sam exclaimed loud enough to draw the attention of the others who all laughed and catcalled to the two. "I really am home!" Sam finished with a grin.

Frodo took his hand and said quietly in his beloved friend's ear.

"And I am no longer torn in two."

Sam smiled at him and replied. "Nor am I. I'd always hoped we'd meet again across the sea."

Frodo hugged his friend to him again and the two hurried to catch up to the others.


End file.
